


Memories

by DaughterOfDante



Series: The Reincarnations of Desmond Miles [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, mucking up canon as much as possible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7537138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfDante/pseuds/DaughterOfDante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond Miles hates his life. Hit the snooze button one morning and found himself reincarnated 5 times through out history. Though, it was only after being abducted by the company Abstergo, that he realized that he kept being reincarnated into his family as the brother of major ancestors. Seriously, how is this his life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from. Honestly.  
> PS - Don't shoot me if my translations are off, please! Any native speakers are welcome to correct me!

_‘I knew I shouldn’t have pressed the snooze button!_ ’ Desmond Miles though as he ran through Washing Square Park, late for his shift at the bar Bad Weather. He stopped abruptly, a bad feeling growing in his gut. He began to glow gold and his skin gain white lines, _‘What the-?’_ His thoughts were cut off as the glow began to brighten and he suddenly disappeared without a noise. 5 minutes later, he appeared, looking no different than when he left. He looked around in confusion, but before he could move, a hand pushed something cold against his nose and mouth. ‘ _Oh niiawenhátie?_ ' He struggled, but his mind grew dim before he could break free and make a run for it.

-

He opened his eyes to white nothingness all around him.

 _“Who are you?”_ He whirled around, finding no one or nothing around him.

 _“Rakahòn:tsuakweks? Kane Kenway?”_ A rush of memories brought him to his knees.

_Ratonhnahaké:ton. A village burning. Mother! Visions of death and destruction. Meeting a mentor. A new name. Sailing the ocean. The Brotherhood of Assassins. Hunting. Exploration. Naval battles. Revolution. War. A hanging. A declaration of independence. A ring of Eden. Aveline de Grandpré. A reunion. A betrayal. Battle. Death._

_“Jalen Kenway?”_ He held his head as the voice spoke again, bringing new memories.

_Haytham. Training. Reginald Birch. Mercenaries. Death. Abduction. The search. The Templars. The first kill. Digweed. Father was an Assassin? War. Hidden Blade. The artifact. Sailing. Mutiny. The Colonies. Grand Master. A meeting. A rescue. Freeing slaves. Kaniehtí:io. Braddock Expedition. Battle. Death._

_“Gwayne Kenway?”_

 “Why are you doing this?” He yelped as memories flowed faster.

_“Edward. Fire. Privateer. Assassin traitor. The Templars. Havana. The Sage. The Capture. Nassau. The Assassins. Thatch. Shipwrecks. Diving. Attacks. The Observatory. Death._

_“Korvin Auditore de Firenze?”_  Faster.

_Ezio. Laughter. Deliveries. Traitor! Assassins. Uncle. Villa. Training. Missions. Apple. Desmond. Attack. Roma. Recruits. Love. Masayf. Constantinople. Bombs. Library. Altaïr. Nieces and Nephews. Family. Death._

_“Saqr Ibn-La’Ahad?”_ And faster.

_Altaïr. Temple. Ark. Blood. Kadar! Escape. Masayf. Al Mualim. Brother! Missions. Assassinations. Templars. Traitor. Mentor. Exiled. Return. Beheading. Escape. Death._

_“Or are you Desmond Miles?”_ Until the memories slowed.

 _The Farm._ **Flash.** _Leaving._ **Flash**. _Travelling._ **Flash**. _Bartending._ **Flash**. _Golden glow._ **Flash**. _White lines._ Then.

_“Choose!”_

_Nothing._

-

He groaned as he opened his eyes, not surprised in the least to see white nothingness around him. He did, however, jump when a floating 12-year-old girl with brown hair and silver eyes appeared before him. “Who are you?”

The girl smirked. _“You may call me Luna. The question is, though, do you know who_ you _are?”_ He closed his eyes, bringing his chaotic thoughts to order. Opening them, he answered.

“Yes. I am Desmond Miles. But I am also Saqr, Korvin, Gwayne, Jalen, and Rakahòn:tsuakweks. Reincarnation, yes? Along with a Piece of Eden to insure I would remember?” The girl clapped.

 _“Very good. You passed.”_ She smiled grimly. _“Currently, your body is being transported to the company Abstergo, a front for the modern day Templars. They will be using you to access you ancestors’ memories of Pieces of Eden via a machine that reads your genetic memories. Sort of like a virtual reality.”_

“That’s a thing? I thought that virtual reality was science fiction?” Desmond quirked an eyebrow. Luna shrugged and continued speaking.

 _“My time is almost up. My uncles are distracting my aunt and half-sister while we are talking, but your body is waking. Remember what you have gone through, and you will succeed. Oh and act like Desmond would. Farewell, and good luck.”_ A bright flash caused Desmond to close his eyes and when he opened them, he was in 10 th century Jerusalem, running around a market place.

 ** _“We've got a problem! I can't anchor him to the memory. Too much psychological trauma. He's rejecting the treatment. Retreating.”_** A woman spoke, worry hidden in her tone.

 ** _“Desmond, I need you to try and relax.”_** An elderly male spoke to him. The woman spoke again, this time the worry more evident.

**_“Let me try and stabilize it.”_ **

**_“Focus. Listen to the sound of my voice. Recognize that what you’re seeing isn’t real, just a picture of the past. It can’t hurt you.”_** The old man’s voice was calm and collected and Desmond used to try and center himself.

**_“Damn it! It’s not working!”_ **

**_“Give it a moment, Ms. Stillman. He’ll… adjust. The first time is never easy.”_ **

It wasn’t working. The smells. The voices. The sights. It was too much.

**_“We’re losing him!”_ **

**_“That’s enough, Ms. Stillman!”_** The man raised his voice and Desmond flinched.

 ** _“We need to pull him out. Now.”_** Stillman sounded like she was gritting her teeth. Old Man sighed.

**_“Alright, Desmond. We’re going to try and bring you out now.”_ **

Desmond opened his eyes, blinking away the binary that invaded his vision. A fuzzy white and yellow human shaped blob came at him from the left, asking him if he was alright. He shot up, gasping for breath and glared at the doctor on his right side, a Warren Vidic according to ID card.

“I told you he’d be fine.” Vidic moved away and Desmond propped himself up on his elbows.

“Bastards!” He snarled. The old man raised his hands in defense.

“Now, now. I just saved your life.” He moved away, allowing Desmond to actually sit up.

“Saved my life?! You kidnapped me! Strapped me into that… thing!” He motioned to the bed like object he was sitting on. As he spoke, he surreptitiously looked around the room. It was all chrome metal and glass, with one wall made entirely of windows. The blonde, Stillman, was clicking away at a monitor on a desk not far away. He turned back to Vidic as he was about to speak.

“Animus. It’s an Animus.”

 _‘Like I care!’_ Desmond thought. “I don’t even know you people!” He watched as the doctor walked away. “Why are you doing this to me?!” Vidic turned around.

“You have information we need, Mr. Miles.” Desmond gapped.

“Information? I’m a bartender for Christ sakes!” He started to gesture wildly “What do you want me to do? Teach you how to mix a martini?!” _‘And Ezio said I couldn’t act. HA!’_

“We know who you are.” The good doctor walked back to stand in front of the reincarnated assassin. “What you are.” _‘Time for a more convincing act.’_

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looked down and away, biting his lip to prevent him from laughing at the older man’s deadpan expression.

“Don’t play coy with me. There isn’t time. You’re an Assassin.” Vidic moved closer. “And whether you realize it or not, you’ve got something that my employers want.” Vidic raised his hand and motioned to Desmond’s head. “Locked away in that head of yours.”

“But I’m not an assassin.” Desmond said as Vidic started walking. “Not anymore.” Vidic walked until he reached Stillman. _‘Lies, lies, all lies!’_

“Yes, your file indicated as much. Something about an ‘escape’. Most fortunate for us.” The younger man looked at the doctor.

“What do you want from me?” His eyes followed Vidic as he paced.

“For you to do as your told. The Animus will allow us to locate what we need. Once we have it you’ll be free to go.”

Desmond narrowed his eyes. _‘Now why don’t I believe you…’_ “I am _not_ going back in there.” Vidic smirked.

“Then we’ll induce a coma and continue our work. When we’re done, you’ll be left to die.” The older man turned to look at the younger. “Truth be told, the only reason you’re still conscious is because this approach saves us time.” The ex-bartender shook his head.

“You’re insane.” Vidic’s smirk grew.

“So what is it, Mr. Miles? Live, or die?” He paused watching the younger man glare at him. “Lie down.” Desmond’s glare darkened, but he complied. “A wise decision.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice anything off? Comment about it!


	2. Solomon's Temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is and the next chapter is mostly just rehashed dialogue, so don't expect much.

_“So what is it, Mr. Miles? Live, or die?” He paused watching the younger man glare at him. “Lie down.” The glare darkened, but he complied. “A wise decision.”_

Desmond glowered at the ceiling, nearly jumping when a glass visor covered his eyes, and a strange triangle symbol lit up with the word loading underneath. _‘Probably Abstergo’s logo.’_ Desmond though idly. “So…. Where am I?” The triangle changed into a rotating DNA strand.

“You’re inside the Animus.” He watched Vidic and Stillman fiddling around through the opaque glass.

“Which is…?”

“It’s a projector which renders genetic memories in three dimensions.” _‘Could he sound any more excited?’_

“Genetic Memories.” _‘In other words, you’re making my ancestors into a virtual reality video game.’_

Vidic took his statement as a question. “Seems you’ll need a bit of a tutorial.” _‘They have a_ tutorial _? Ah, hell. It_ is _a video game!’_ “Very well. _‘Oh, hey a brain.’_ Let’s start simple. What is a memory, Mr. Miles?”

“It’s the… recollection of a past event.”

“Specific to the individual remembering the event.” Vidic added on.

 _‘If you want to be technical.’_ “Yeah, sure.” _Why an outline of a bald naked woman, though?’_

Vidic continued on, ignoring Desmond’s sarcasm. “What if I told you the human body not only housed an individual’s memories, but the memories of his ancestors as well? Genetic memory, if you will.” The woman changed to flapping eagle. _‘Really?’_ “Migration, hibernation, reproduction… How do animals know when and where to go? What to do?”

“That’s just animal instinct.” Desmond pointed out. Vidic scoffed.

“Now you're arguing semantics, Mr. Miles. Whatever you call it, the fact remains. These creatures hold the knowledge absent the requisite first-hand experience. I've spent the past thirty years trying to understand why. I discovered something most fascinating.” _‘And back to DNA…’_ “Our DNA functions as an archive. It contains not only genetic instructions passed down from previous generations, but memories as well. The memories of our ancestors.”

“And the Animus lets you decode and read these DNA files…” Desmond trailed off.

Vidic smiled. “Precisely.”

Stillman finally spoke up. “But there’s a problem. This is the specific memory we’re trying to access.” A part of the DNA on the visor lit up. “Unfortunately, when we try to open the memory, your mind withdraws. You lack the confidence to step into your ancestor’s body.” _‘Not that I don’t lack the confidence, I just don’t want to be sent into my brother’s body, thank you very much!’_ “That’s what happened earlier. You got knocked out of the target memory and pushed back into a more stable state.”

“Why?” Desmond asked.

“It’s your subconscious. It’s resisting.” _‘I wonder why?!’_ “We found similar reactions among patients who undergo hypnosis to relive traumatic events. They can’t jump directly into the specific memory. You need to be eased in. Even then there can be problems.”

Desmond sighed. “So how do we fix it?”

“We find a memory you can synchronize with. And we move forward from there. You’ll get used to it. This is the closest we can get.” Another DNA strand lit up. “So it’s where we’ll have to start. I’m uploading the tutorial program now.” Desmond’s vision went white then faded into color. After faffing about, figuring out how to move in the Animus, his vison whited out again, this time leaving him underground. A familiar voice spoke, making his heart skip a beat.

_‘No. Not this memory. Anything but this one.’_

“Wait! There must be another way. This one need not die.” Before Desmond knew it, he ran up to the elderly man ahead of him, forcing him to his knees and plunging his hidden blade into the back of his head, killing him. He turned around and faced his three comrades. Two in plain sight, one hidden in the shadows.

“An excellent kill. Fortune favors you blade.” The only novice of the group said, hero-warship in his voice. _‘No, not an ‘_ excellent kill _’, Kadar. That was a terrible decision!’_ Desmond felt Altaïr smirk.

“Not fortune. Skill. Watch a while longer and you might learn something.” _‘Why does he sound American. Also, think you can sound a little more arrogant? Allah above, Altaïr.’_

“Indeed. He’ll teach you how to disregard everything the master’s taught us.” Malik waved his hands. ‘ _Thank you, Voice of Reason. You can always trust Malik to pop Altaïr’s ego when it gets too large.’_

“And how would you have done it?” Altaïr asked testily. _‘Not that it worked. Oh, well. He tried.”_

“I would have not drawn attention to us. I would have not taken the life of an innocent. What I would have done is follow the Creed.” Malik gestured angrily.

 “‘Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.’ Understand these words. It matters not how we complete our task. Only how it is done.” If Desmond had control of his body, he would have smacked Altaïr upside the head. _‘He’s an idiot.’_

“But this is not the way of –” Malik started but Altaïr waved him away, interrupting.

“My way is better.” _‘Now he just sounds spoiled.’_

“I will scout ahead.” Malik sounded irritated. “Try not to dishonor us further.” He turned and ran, leaving behind his younger brother to his rival’s tender mercies. Kadar faced his superior.

“What is our mission? My brother would say nothing to me. Only that I should be honored to have been invited.” _‘I really wish you hadn’t been. It would have saved us so much grief and sorrow.’_ Desmond sighed, wishing that he should say something to change what was about to happen, but knowing that it would be inevitable.

“The Master believes the Templars have found something beneath the Temple mount.” Altaïr stated.

“Treasure?” Kadar asked, excitement flooding his tone. _‘Depends on your definition of treasure. If you mean a metal memory orb that can fuck with your head, then sure. That’s exactly what you’re gonna find!’_

“I do not know. All that matters is that the Master considers it important, else he would not have asked me to retrieve it.” _‘You? Don’t you mean us?’_ Suddenly in control of Altaïr’s body, he followed Malik, leaping from ledge to ledge, before climbing a ladder and killing a Templar guard. He was tempted to look behind him, knowing that his incarnation was trailing after them, having been sent as reinforcement. They entered the temple and Desmond got booted out of his ancestor’s body. Kadar motioned to something shiny.

“There! That must be the Ark!” Malik came up behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“The… Ark… of the Covenant?” He asked, disbelief in his voice. Altaïr scoffed.

“Don’t be silly. There is no such thing. It’s just a story.” All the same, he crept nearer for a closer look. Kadar looked at him.

“Then what is it?” Malik knelt quickly and motioned them to as well.

“Quiet! Someone’s coming!” The four, five counting Desmond, watched as Robert de Sable and two underlings walked into the temple.

“I want this through this gate by sunrise! The sooner we possess it, the sooner we can turn our attention to those jackals at Masyaf!” Robert shouted. Desmond sniffed, _‘Better to be a jackal than to be a hyena!’_

“Robert de Sable. His life is mine.” Altaïr said, glaring at the bald Frenchman. _‘Don’t do it, bro. It won’t end well!’_ Malik whipped around.

“No! We would want to retrieve the treasure and deal with Robert only if necessary.”

“He stands between us and it. I would say it’s necessary.” Altaïr smirked. _‘Oh Allah.’_ Desmond sighed. _‘Here we go.’_

“Discretion, Altaïr!”

“You mean cowardice. That man is our greatest enemy. And here we have a chance to be rid of him!” He hissed.

“You have already broken two tenets of our Creed. Now you would break the third. Do not compromise the Brotherhood!”

“I am your superior, in both title and ability. You should know better than to question me.” Desmond found himself in control and squeaked in his head. Malik looked ready to murder someone, and it wasn’t going to be one of the Templars below them.

 _‘I think I’ll just run away now.’_ He quickly climbed down the ladder and approached the Templars, finding them less scary then his irate teammate.

“Hold Templars! You are not the only ones with business here.” _‘Palm, meet face. Face, say hello to palm.’_ Robert turned with open arms. Desmond heard Malik and Kadar land beside him.

“Ah! Well, this explains my missing man. And what is it you want?” Again, Desmond got kicked out of his body.

“Blood.” Altaïr lunged for Robert, Malik trying to stop him, but the Templar expected the strike and held Altaïr back.

“You know not the things in which you meddle, Assassin. I spare you only that you may return to your master and deliver a message. The Holy Land is lost to him and his, He should flee now while he has the chance. Stay, and all of you will die.” His part said, Robert threw Altaïr through some scaffolding and in doing so, sealed him out of the temple and separated him from Kadar and Malik. Desmond was in control and ran to the debris blocking his way.

“Men, to arms! Kill the Assassins!” He heard Robert command, the screams and clashing of weapons that followed made Desmond put a hand on the rubble. He felt his synchronization rate dropping, and he turned and fled to the surface, knowing at least that someone would make it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice anything off? Comment about it!


	3. Masayf and Divergence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again mostly dialogue, next chapter's better. (When I get around to it.) Though this is where we begin to diverge from canon.

_He felt his synchronization rate dropping, and he turned and fled to the surface, knowing at least that someone would make it._

Desmond woke in the Animus Loading Screen. Physically, he started running in circles, but mentally, he was screaming his lungs out. Thankfully, he was calmer when he was dumped into the Village of Masyaf. He stared awkwardly around, not quite sure where to go from there. He startled when he saw someone wave and walk closer.

“Altaïr! You’ve returned!” Desmond nodded to him.

“Rauf.”

“It is good to see you unharmed. I trust your mission was a success?”

Desmond avoided the question. “Is the master in his tower?” Rauf nodded.

“Yes, yes. Buried in his books as always. No doubt he expects you.”

“My thanks, Brother.” He started walking away, and Rauf called out.

“Safety and peace, Altaïr.”

“On you as well.” Desmond, after walking through the town and up the slopes, entered the fortress, but was stopped by one of his least favorite Assassins.

“Ah. He returns at last.” Desmond grimaced.

“Abbas.”  He bared his teeth in a parody of a friendly smile, not that the other man noticed. The unhooded Assassin looked around, no doubt trying to locate the other assassins.

“Where are the others? Did you ride ahead hoping to be the first one back? I know you are loath to share the glory.” Desmond gritted his teeth. _‘No murdering allies. No murdering allies. No murdering allies.’_ “Silence is just another form of assent.”

“Have you nothing better to do?” He hissed.

Abbas scoffed. “I bring word from the master. He waits for you in the library. Best hurry. No doubt you’re eager to put your tongue to his boot.”

Desmond growled. “Another word and I’ll put my blade to your throat.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later, ‘brother.’” Abbas sneered and moved away and leaned against the side of the tunnel. _‘Asshole.’_ Desmond entered the fortress and made his way up the stairs, where he stood before the Master, Al Mualim. He switched with Altaïr and watched the proceeding events in silence.

“Altaïr.” The elder Assassin walked over to the desk, Altaïr bowing as he got closer.

“Master.”

“Come forward. Tell me of your mission. I trust you have recovered the Templar’s treasure.” Altaïr straightened from his bow and shook his head.

“There was some trouble, Master. Robert de Stable was not alone.”

“When does our work ever go as expected? It’s our ability to adapt that makes up who we are.” Altaïr shifted and Al Mualim’s gaze sharpened.

“This time it was not enough…”

“What do you mean?” The younger man bowed his head.

“I have failed you…” The Master walked around his desk, slowly approaching his subordinate.

“The treasure?”

“Lost to us.”

“And Robert?” Altaïr swallowed nervously.

“Escaped.”

“I send you, my best man, to complete a mission more important than any that has come before. And you return to me with nothing but apologies and excuses! I sent Saqr as reinforcement, and it seems like his brother, he is incompetent!” His voice ended in a hiss.

Altaïr’s voice held a tremble as the consequences of his actions finally broke through his thick skull. “You-” The elder man sliced his hand through the air.

 “Do not speak! Not another word!” He turned around. “This is not what I expected. We’ll need to mount another force.”

“I must go-”

“No! You’ll do nothing! You’ve done enough! Where are Malik and Kadar?”

“Dead.” Altaïr whispered, in shock that his twin was most likely gone. He heard a noise and Malik ran into his sight, clutching his bleeding left arm.

“No! Not dead!”

“Malik!” The master exclaimed, surprised.

“I still live at least.” The wounded assassin grunted and gripped his arm tighter, trying to stem the bleeding.

“And your brother?” Al Mualim asked.

“Gone.” Malik turned and pointed a finger at Altaïr. “Because of you!” He waited for a reaction, but frowned when the only one he got was a single whispered name. He turned back to the mentor with a confused expression.

“Saqr was sent as reinforcement. His orders were to remain hidden until he was needed.” The master said softly. Malik whirled around.

“This happened because you would not heed my warning! All of this could have been avoided! And our brothers… our brothers would still be alive! Your arrogance cost us victory today!” His angry tone goaded the stunned man into action.

“You think I don’t realize this?!” Altaïr hissed, but as quick as his temper flared, it burned out just as easily. “My brother was right. He said one day my pride would cost me something precious. I should have listened.”

“Well, as nice as it is to have Altaïr recognize his own shortcomings, could I possibly have a little help here?” A surprising, but welcome, voice cut through the tensions in the room. All three men whirled around and stared in disbelief at a grinning Saqr. Malik whimpered as he saw his brother, alive, in his arms. “Oh, and, my brother’s arrogance _nearly_ cost us victory.”

“Nearly?” Al Mualim demanded. Saqr looked like he was about to roll his eyes, but decided it was a bad idea.

“Yes. I have the treasure with me, but…” He trailed off when he saw Malik’s arm. “Allah above, Malik! What is it with you Al-Sayf brothers? Can you not keep yourselves in one piece?!” If his hands weren’t full, he’d smack his forehead in disbelief. The elder brother at least had the humility to look sheepish. Saqr turned to his twin, who looked like he was about to cry. “Altaïr?” As soon as his brother moved, he hastily laid Kadar on the ground, just in time to catch Altaïr as the elder twin wrapped his arms around him. “Okay, yes, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, but we still have two brothers bleeding out on the floor. Let’s get them to the infirmary, yes? Before they die?” When his brother still didn’t move, he sighed and Altaïr found himself flat on his back, winded. Only Malik, giddy with proof of his brother’s survival, found the Master Assassin’s misfortune funny and snickered. The younger man turned to his elder.

“Come. Let us get you two to the infirmary.” He picked up Kadar’s unconscious body, and allowed Malik to lean on him for support. He hardly took a step, when a novice came barreling in.

“Master! We are under attack! Robert de Sable lays siege to Masyaf’s village!”

The elderly man nodded. “So he seeks a battle! Very well, I’ll not deny him. Go inform the others. The fortress must be prepared.” The novice nodded and fled. Al Mualim turned to Altaïr. “As for you, Altaïr, our discussion will have to wait. You must make for the village. Destroy these invaders. Drive them from our home!” The younger nodded.

“It will be done.” Desmond, having watched the scene silently, suddenly found himself in front of the headquarters, in control. Sighing, he ran to the entrance of the fortress and was stopped by Rauf,

“Altaïr! It’s good you’ve come. We need your help!” Desmond could take a guess who was invading, but better to be safe than sorry…

“What’s happened?” Rauf gestured towards the village.

“Templars. They attack the village. Most of our people were able to get away. Most… but not all.”

“What do you need me to do?” Desmond asked.

“Distract the Templars. Keep them occupied while I rescue those still trapped inside.” He bowed.

“As you wish.” He continued running, but this time, he took his weapons to any Templar that crossed his path. He stopped as Abbas’ voice sounded through the village.

“Break off the attack and return to Masyaf! Al Mualim commands it!” _‘Oh, god. Here we go again.’_ Desmond thought as he was transported through time and space. This time landing in the fortress grounds. He ran towards the library, but Rauf calling out to him caused to veer off to the side.

“Altaïr, come. Al Mualim’s not done with us yet.”

“Where are we going?” Asked Desmond, as he ran up to his fellow assassin.

“Up there.” Rauf pointed to the tallest tower next to the cliff face. “We’ve a surprise planes for our guests. Just do as I do. It should become clear soon enough.” The mental time traveler zipped up the ladders, and followed his guide through a balcony area overlooking the land surrounding Masyaf. Rauf gestured to a platform extending from the tower, standing on one like it, with another assassin close by. “Stand on that platform, Altaïr.” Desmond followed instructions and watched as Robert approached the fortress on horseback, with an army at his back.

“Heretic! Return what you have stolen from me!” The Frenchman shouted up to Al Mualim, who stood up high on top of the fortresses walls.

“You’ve no claim to it, Robert! Take yourself from here before I’m forced to thin your ranks further!” The master crossed his arms over his chest in defiance. The Templar general point up at the aged man.

“You play a dangerous game!”

Al Mualim’s hands cut an x through the air. “I assure you, this is no game!”

“So be it! Bring forth the hostage!” A novice was pushed to the front. He only had a moment to look up before he was choking on his own blood, a sword stabbed through his chest. “Your village lays in ruins and your stores are hardly endless! How long before your fortress crumbles from within? How disciplined will your men remain, when the wells run dry and their food is gone?”

Al Mualim smirked, “My men do not fear death, Robert! They welcome it, and the rewards it brings!”

“Good! Then they shall have it all around!” The Templar snarled. Rauf caught Desmond’s attention.

“Follow me, and do so without hesitation.” Desmond nodded. Al Mualim turned to the three assassins above him.

“Show these fool knights what it is to have no fear! Go to God!” The three assassins leapt of the ledge without fear. Desmond and Rauf landed safely in haystacks, but the third was not so lucky. He had landed badly on his leg, and was crying out in pain. Rauf hurried to the injured one.

“Quiet… or the Templars will hear us!” Once he inspected the leg, he turned to Desmond. “I’ll stay behind and tend to him. You’ll have to go ahead without us.” He motioned to something behind Desmond. “The ropes there will lead you to a trap we’ve set. Go and release it. Bring death upon our enemies!” The younger man nodded and, after running across bridges and scaling walls, cut the ropes to release the trap, sending logs to flatten the attacking Templars. He watched in satisfaction as the men below him darted around like insects after their nest had been disturbed, bringing to mind a quote from a movie he saw before time traveling. _‘Ant, boot.’_ He got detached from his ancestor’s body again as the Animus skipped ahead again, leaving Altaïr in front of Al Mualim and two assassins behind

“You did well to drive Robert from here. His force is broken. It should be a long while before he troubles us again. Tell me, do you know why it is you are successful?” Altaïr was quiet, but he needn’t had spoken as his master answered for him. “You listened! Were it that you’d listened in Solomon’s Temple, Altaïr, all of this would have been avoided.” Desmond winced. _‘True, but… ouch.’_

“I did as I was asked.” His ancestor muttered quietly. Al Mualim raised a fist in an aborted movement then lowered it back to his side.

“No you did as you pleased! Malik has told me of the arrogance you displayed— your disregard for our ways.” Altaïr made a startled noise as the assassins behind him seized ahold of his arms, restraining him.

“What are you doing?” _‘Danger, Will Robinson, danger!’_ The master started pacing.

“There are rules. We are nothing if we do not abide by the Assassin’s Creed: three simple tenets,” He walked up to the younger man and grabbed his chin, letting go after a moment. “Which you seem to forget. I will remind you. First and foremost: Stay your blade —”

“From the flesh of an innocent.” Altaïr interrupted. “I know.” The older man backhanded him.

“And stay you tongue! Unless I give you leave to use it. If you are so familiar with this tenet, then why did you kill the old man inside the Temple?” Altaïr looked away. “He was innocent.” The old man stepped into the younger’s personal space. “He did not need to die. Your insolence knows no bounds. Make humble your heart child, or I swear I will tear it from you with my own hands!” Al Mualim heaved an aggrieved sigh before backing away slightly.

“The second tenet is that which gives us strength: Hide in plain sight. Let the people mask you such that you become one with the crowd. Do you remember? Because as I hear it, you chose to expose yourself, drawing attention to yourself before you struck!” He shook his head.

“The third and final tenet, the worst of all your betrayals. Never compromise the Brotherhood. It’s meaning should be obvious. Your actions must never bring harm upon us, direct or indirect!” His voice rose with each word and his hand gestures grew more wild. “Yet your selfish act beneath Jerusalem placed us all in danger! Worse still, you brought the enemy to our home! Every man we lost today was lost because of you!” He drew a throwing knife from his belt. “I’m sorry I truly am. But I cannot abide a traitor.”

Altaïr struggled against his captors. “I am not a traitor!”

“Your actions indicate otherwise. And so you leave me with no choice.” Al Mualim came closer. “Peace be upon you, Altaïr.” And stabbed him in the stomach.

Desmond landed in the Animus loading screen, disoriented and more than a little pissed at his former brother. _‘I can’t believe him.’_ He shook his head as two familiar voices filtered through the white nothingness, unaware that he could hear them.

**_“He’s experiencing a far better adoption rate than the other subjects.”_** _‘Vidic sounds excited.’_

**_“I’m still pulling him out. He’s been in there way too long.”_** _‘And Stillman sounded worried. Why though?’_

**_“No not yet! We’re still so far from where we need to be!”_** _‘Shouting.’_

**_“We shouldn’t risk it.”_** _‘Still worried.’_

**_“What’s another hour or two?”_** _‘Pleading. That’s new.’_

**_“Why don’t we discuss this in the conference room? Give Desmond a minute to stretch his legs.”_** _‘Compromising.’_

**_“I really don’t see the need –”_** _‘Indignant. Yeah, well I’ve been in this thing for god knows how long. What’s your excuse?’_

**_“Warren! Please.”_** _‘Exasperated. Someone’s in trouble.’_

**_“Fine.”_** _‘Sigh. Okay, time to wake up.’_

As the two Abstergo members walked away, Desmond sat up, swung his legs over the side of the table and cracked his neck. _‘Why can’t this thing have cushioning?’_ He hopped off and started pacing, trying to work feeling back into his legs. Having done that, he wandered over to the computer, keeping an ear open for the door opening. Seeing the computer was password protected, he smirked. _Thank you, crazy hacker college friend and her lessons of chaos!’_ Rapidly tapping the computer keys, he bypassed the login screen and looked through the files, memorizing everything he deemed important and deleting everything they had on him. _‘Subject 17, huh? Then who are the other 16 subjects.’_ He quickly read through the relevant files and grimaced. _‘Stabbing his wrists with a pen? The bleeding effect does not sound good at all. But would it affect me?’_ He shrugged and turned off all the recordings on this floor and messed with his ‘bedroom’ locking system, but not before creating and sending in a Trojan horse in the shape of an anonymous tip on a Piece of Eden. _‘This is going to be so much fun.’_

Hearing footsteps, he covered his tracks and walked away from the computer just as the two returned from there yelling match. “There you are.” Vidic motioned him closer. “We’re done for the day Mr. Miles. I suggest that you go to your room and get some rest.”  Desmond nodded and walked to his room, smirking when the door shut, but didn’t lock. He set a mental alarm and went to sleep, waking up around one in the morning. He turned on his Eagle Vision, and watched for guards, stubbornly ignoring the glowing red abstract designs on his wall. Upon finding no guards, he quickly opened the door and shut it quietly, smiling at the sound of the lock clicking.

Desmond turned and made his way to the window, and finding a latch, opened it. He looked down and smiled at the lake below him. Turning around, he closed the window and pushed off the ledge backwards, and swan dived into the water. He let himself float for a bit, relishing his freedom before coming up for air. He unzipped his hoodie and twisted it, wringing out the excess water, glaring at the building before him, mentally whining about having to walk about in wet jeans.  Once his hoodie was only damp, his shirt followed and received the same treatment. Still glaring, he replaced the now dry-ish articles of clothing and ran off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice anything off? Comment about it!


End file.
